


Phalacrocorax in F minor

by Enedda



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hospital, M/M, Music, Slow Burn, alternative story (on Will's side), always music, it will develop-I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enedda/pseuds/Enedda
Summary: Will is a violinist. Hannibal - well, is Hannibal. Things happen.More things will happen later.





	1. Sonata

This boy's fingers were doing fabulous things to him. He was... exquisite. From the dark, unruly curly hair, deep blue eyes, slender body too long, muscular legs. Hannibal closed his eyes, feeling like he was falling into deep, old amber-hued honey.

Going to the Biber festival was an excellent idea, indeed. And he almost decided otherwise! The only recipe from _Larousse Gastronomique_ wasn't going to prepare itself, and the preparations are going to take him some time. And Franklyn was feeling worse, lately.

Shh.

Now the only thing that mattered was the music. The boy's violin was making love to him, to his ears, to his soul. _Harmonia artificioso-arosa_ was rarely played, being so complicated and needing only baroque-experienced players, so this festival was a rare treat.

And this boy was a cherry on top.

Hannibal felt hungry for him. That was interesting. He didn't feel this particular hunger for some time. Now he felt like his body was waking up from a deep slumber, stretching the muscles and increasing the blood flow one body part after another. His neck, head, torso, arms, legs... this particular tingle always co-vibrated with the music. He didn't understand how people couldn't hear his blood hum.

The very reason of this singular awakening was in the middle of one of the Passacaglias, exceptional Spanish-originating compositions. His head was hurting, and no amount of aspirin seemed to help. If only he could survive till the end without collapsing... that would be a blessing. Now the only thing he could do is sing a wordless "Jesus Fuck" to the melody of the given piece.

The boy was sweating. Something was wrong. The music has reached one of the painfully beautiful crescendos and precisely at the moment, the violinist collapsed. Hannibal lost him from his sight only for a brief moment, when the railing obscured his vision. The rest of the group stopped playing, and the conductor shouted "Is there a doctor here? Will! Someone get to him!"

"I am a doctor," answered Hannibal and marched to the distressed gathering. Looking at the conductor, he asked "Please, call an ambulance. Tell them what happened. And don't worry too much, he should be fine. What did you call him?"

"Will. This is our new violinist, Will Graham."

Hannibal, having checked the boy's breathing, took his pulse and let out a small sigh of relief. He felt a fever: a bit high, but manageable. The only worrying part was the fainting; this should be thoroughly checked.

"Will?" he touched the musician's hot cheek. "Will? I need you to wake up. You are safe; help is on the way. Wake up."

The boy moved his head slowly and blinked in the harsh lights.

"My head... it hurts. And I don't see very well."

"You have a fever," answered Hannibal. "How was your health lately?"

"Okay-ish, I think. Just the headaches. But I do work strange hours, and I sleep for 2 hours at night..."

"A recommended amount of sleep for an insect, maybe, but not for a grown-up man, Will. We have to work on that."

_We_. Already an item? That slipped up fast. Well, worse things could have happened.

The ambulance came and went, taking the scorching hot head with them. Feeling strangely out of place, Hannibal went to the foyer, collected his coat and went to the hospital on his own to check on Will. Nobody would inform him, and he needed to know. The rest of his plans for the evening will have to wait.

 


	2. Adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy Will and discourteous Hannibal in a hospital room.  
> Hannibal is... surprised.

The waiting room was stuffy and smelled of blood and unwashed bodies. The first smell was quite invigorating, the second - quite unnerving. Like the behaviour of the nurse who forbade him to go to Will's room when he wanted - what meant right now. He fidgeted a bit in the chair, unsure what to do.Options, always options. He didn't feel up to flirting with her; he was much too annoyed. Forcing his way through would be just daft, there were cameras aplenty here. Maybe a bit of distraction and then he would sneak through in the commotion? That was a thought.

He got up and went out, stretching on the way, like wanting to get some air. Outside there was a small ramp for ambulances and then a big parking lot with people coming out and getting into their cars.

Perfect.

He spotted a white Volkswagen a bit far on the right. The driver - a young woman - was looking for something in the trunk.

Perfect.

Hannibal walked around the car as if returning to the woman. For her, it looked like he was going to the other vehicle. When he was passing her by, he closed the trunk door, bumping her head and crouched, looking around. Good, cameras shouldn't pick anything suspicious. Now, one for the show. He crawled over her body - she was still alive and breathing, just lost consciousness - and got up.

"Hey, what happened? Can you get up? Anyone? The lady here, she needs help! Help!"

His booming voice alarmed everyone around, and some kind souls have indeed lured the nurse out from her station. Seeing her outside with some ER doctors, he casually strolled to the other side and went in.

Perfect.

He checked the number of one Will Graham's room in the register and went to floor three, room five. As for now, mission accomplished.

"Hello, Will."

Will was laying in the white bed, looking deliciously dishevelled. His curls have conquered both the pillow and the top of the blanket; his eyes - a bit dimmed by the meds, sadly - seemed even bluer than in the concert hall. Was he sleeping? No, that was a fake snore. And again. Again!

"Will, I'm not your doctor. I'm your guest. Let's be civil."

"Like I care," answered him a grumpy little voice, muffled by the covers. The voice was lively enough but tired.

"Then I care for both of us. Can I see your face? I am the one who helped you in the concert hall. I have come to check if you were fine here."

"Ah, it's you. Sorry, didn't recognise the voice. It's noisy in here." Will pulled the blanket down a little and looked at Hannibal curiously. What was this guy doing here, exactly?

"Never apologise to me, Will. It's good to see your face again. You do look better, if I may say so."

"I'm feeling better. They gave me some antibiotics and other meds for the fever. I should be out tomorrow evening. And thank you. For the help, I mean. I should have started from that."

"Not fond of social rules?" Hannibal sat down on the bed. Yes, rules and all that. But this boy was exceptional and exceptional procedures applied.

"Not especially, no," Will answered slowly, scratching his head and trying to smile. He produced something like a crooked half-smile. Still adorable. "But I was rude, and I should have thanked earlier. You are kind."

Kind. That was new for Hannibal. Frankly, he didn't remember when anyone would call him that. Maybe then, when he worked in the ER. No. not even then.

He was kind. And lost for words. Will was asking a question.

"???"

"Sorry, lost in thoughts. What was your question, again?"

"What is your name? I don't think you told me."

"Ah, yes. Of course. I was discourteous. The name is Hannibal Lecter, Will," he said with a smile. This boy had a special air about him. Noisy, but calm at the same time. A walking contradiction in F minor.

"Hannibal... what a strange name," Will murmured to himself, feeling tired again. The pillows were singing their lullabies, and he wasn't strong enough to say no, not yet.

"You will get used to it, Will."

Hannibal, having noticed the change in the timbre, got up and said his goodbyes. Enough for now.

He will see him again, tomorrow.

Will fell asleep, not hearing his last words. Hannibal looked at him for a while, listening to his breath.

Music.


End file.
